Surrender
by DOZ
Summary: Should she yield, give someone else control, or should she retain it, walk away and risk feeling lonelier than she had ever been? A brief look into what might have happened that night in Moscow.


Title: Surrender

Author: DOZ aka Clea

Summary: Should she yield, give someone else control, or should she retain it, walk away and risk feeling lonelier than she had ever been? A brief look into what might have happened that night in Moscow.

Disclaimer: Not mine, I just wanted to play with them.

sur·ren·der – Verb (used without object):  
_To give oneself up, as into the power of another; submit or yield._

"I used to look like my mom."

She walked towards the hotel after realizing she may have given too much away. She felt him follow a distance behind her, inexpressibly grateful that he was able to not only discern but respect her unspoken desire to be left alone, undoubtedly due to how much of herself she had revealed. Truthfully to a regular person's standard, it hadn't been much, but in their profession where one word out of place was costly or fatal, the encounter left her feeling undeniably vulnerable. He made no effort to force his presence upon her, remaining a careful nine measured steps behind. He stopped pursuing answers to his innocently curious queries, but allowed her to choose whether or not she wished to continue the path she rarely walked.

Hence, while she led, he followed. In more ways than one.

It was during this short trek to her hotel room that something dawned on her, perhaps it was because he deliberately stayed away, or perhaps because she had been alone for quite some time - her relationship with 23 notwithstanding - but she suddenly felt the need for company. His company. In her peripheral vision, she could still see him trailing slightly behind, close enough to let her know he was near and would draw closer if she so wished, but far enough for her to recognize how unbearably lonely her life had become, always subconsciously maintaining a careful distance from others in her quest to not be hurt. But at that precise moment, when she ceased walking and sensed him do the same, in spite of the space between them, she realized that she didn't feel alone at all.

In the duration of her coupling with 23, despite the length of time she had spent with him, it had never filled her with the sense of completeness that now washed over her in waves. The basis of their relationship was founded on familiarity. During her last mission, she was forced to live in a different world, assume a different identity and at times prevent herself from falling into the trap of losing who and what she really was to the façades she habitually wore.

23 was required to do the same.

He was more than aware of what she was experiencing, but more important than his consciousness of that fact, he was a former acquaintance. He was a reminder of her true self, not the one fabricated to execute the mission, but a clear memento of who she was beneath the mask. His association to her past anchored her and the familiarity of him was comforting, and so their relationship began. Two people depending on each other because there was no one else, because the remembrance of their genuine selves was a like soothing balm to the other. But beyond that, they had little else in common.

While their relationship had its own fulfilling elements, the intimacy they shared was - more often than not - limited to the physical. It wasn't that they didn't speak, it was a necessity, but it always seemed hollow, forced. He was reluctant, probably due to his masculinity and unwillingness to sacrifice that image, and she - unknowingly or not - was probably for the same reasons. She also had an appearance to uphold, where weaknesses were burdensome and could not be condoned.

Any fracture in her defenses could be exploited and used against her; and that she could not afford. So in order to keep abreast with her male-counterparts in a male-dominated profession, she drove herself to match them in every way. In all honesty, there was really no question as to why people identified her as a somewhat masculine figure, but if anyone dared to accuse her to be lacking in femininity they did so at their own peril. Ultimately, in her pursuit to remain in stride with, if not a step ahead of other men in their occupation, the nature of her relationship with 23 unconsciously turned competitive.

Soon, the need for an anchor to her real identity was surpassed and overwhelmed by their passion to win, their game of one-upmanship. It was that inherent need to best her fellow agent that marked the end of them and resulted in the failure of the mission. It was then she vowed that she would never again be involved with someone from her world, but her promise now felt somewhat obsolete in light of the startling revelations that had been unveiled tonight, and the man who stood as still as she did nine paces away.

Her back was still trained to him, and it struck her that she must have looked ridiculous standing there in the middle of the hallway for what appeared to be no particular reason. But when she glanced back at him, there was no look of reproach on his face, in its stead was a kind, reassuring yet somewhat endearingly awkward smile that spoke volumes of what he was willing to do for her. He too must have looked rather absurd standing there watching over a woman who seemed so utterly lost.

In their line of work, it was imperative to obtain and maintain control. It was an art to be mastered, and a trait she prided herself in. He saw it, 23 saw it, everybody saw it; there was just something about her aura that simply exuded power. When she entered a room, maybe it was the sophistication of her stance, the hardness of her face, or maybe other unknown reasons, but one could immediately ascertain that she was not a force to be reckoned with, that she was not a woman to be taken for granted.

He thought her to be the epitome of control, which seemed rather ironic yet befitting considering the organization they worked for.

But after tonight, all of who she was had been laid bare for him to see, even with her back to him. The slight slump in her shoulders gave away how remaining poised and composed for so long had taken its toll on her. It was an astounding reminder that lurking below the numerous pretenses she erected to shield herself, to sustain the illusion everyone had of her, she was still indisputably human. She dealt pain and felt it just like everyone else, she possessed an enviable strength but she too had her moments of weakness.

Here. Now. With him.

They were mere meters away from her door, she could have walked the five or so steps without looking back and forget all about her blatant display of helplessness. But he stood there, waiting, unwaveringly so. She could have dismissed him as being naïve, but the more sensitive facet to her persona could not help but be touched by his devotion. The practical and emotive aspects of her personality began its battle for dominance in her mind, deciding whether she should just walk into her hotel room without further acknowledging him, or if she should stop leading, turn around and follow.

Should she yield, give someone else control, or should she retain it, walk away and risk feeling lonelier than she had ever been?

For a brief moment, he could have sworn she was heading for the door, but she surprised him, and herself, by turning to face him. She further shocked them both by taking a small but nonetheless significant step towards him. Time seemed to halt when their eyes met and he found then that the expanse separating them grew ever smaller as he too inched closer. He did not dare blink for fear that if he did, whatever connection that was instantaneously established when green orbs connected with brown, would be broken.

She looked so hesitant and unsure, especially as she unknowingly bit the inside of her lip. But as the space dividing them narrowed to the point of no return, they both stopped moving and just as quickly as she was anxious, she was swiftly relieved. There was something indefinable about his closeness that calmed her; they said nothing but she knew then that no words offered by anyone else could ever amount to the comfort his mere silence brought her. They continued to lose themselves in the other's stare, but when his lips quirked up in that goofy way it did, it caused hers to break into its wide, trademark smile.

He thought she had never looked more lovely than she did then, exposing all she was and could be in that beautiful and somewhat expectant smile.

He took the lead and closed the distance between them, gently reaching for her left wrist before sliding down to her hand. His touch was almost non-existent as it flitted deftly across her skin. She would have imagined him to be a bit clumsier, more uneasy than he appeared to be now, but his fingers applied just enough pressure to make her nerve-endings burn. She watched as he twined their fingers together, making no effort to stop him or the warmth that spread throughout her body when his hand encased her own.

Both their eyes were then directed at the door to her hotel room but despite it being so near, just as any chivalrous man would, he walked her to it. She chuckled internally at the gesture; it was unnecessary and rather comical, but sweet and characteristically him.

When they reached her door, he lifted her hand to his lips and like a gentleman, placed a feather-light kiss on her knuckles, "Good night, 99."

As she spoke, her voice was so soft, possessing none of the rigidity or bite that had often been directed at him when they were first assigned as partners, "Good night."

He watched her open the door, slowly and deliberately. She looked back at him over her shoulder, then turned and stood by the open door, inviting him, tempting him. She seemed almost nervous as she waited for him to decide, but her anxiety faded as one corner of his lips turned up. He passed by her, intentionally or not his hand brushed against hers; it burned.

The hotel that had been chosen for them was exquisite; CONTROL had been very generous, overly so in light of the recent break-in to their headquarters. Nevertheless, he was thankful. He walked further into the elegantly decorated room, opening the two doors that led to the balcony. He sensed her watch him, approach him from behind to eventually take her place at his side to survey the many twinkling lights that littered the darkness above and below.

She thought it was one of the most magnificent views she had ever witnessed, and she had had the fortune of seeing many parts of the globe.

His eyes were focused ahead, at the beautiful night-sky that shone lightly on them. His hands were situated at his side; a cool breeze blew against them, and as she shifted innocently to keep the cold from settling their hands touched. He suppressed his grin and for the second time that night, he entwined their fingers, while she reveled in the sudden heat it brought to her body. Neither counted nor cared for how long they stood on the balcony, their silence conveying what mere words could not. As time ticked by, the darkness grew thicker and the diamond-adorned sky and city grew dimmer and fewer in number, he withdrew from the cold of the balcony and returned to the alluring warmth of her hotel room.

He hadn't released her hand, neither did she.

She followed as he headed for the door, but stood resolutely still before he opened it, exhibiting her first sign of resistance that night. In an attempt to appease her, he gently squeezed her hand, lifting it once again to his lips, kissing it as he was so gentlemanly-inclined, "There's always tomorrow."

The expression on her face and the tone of her voice gave away how unconvinced she was, "You sound so sure."

She knew firsthand how quickly the tables could turn, how much could change in the course of one day, one night. But his smile was compassionate and his eyes reassuring, "I'm not. But in any case, we'll always have tonight."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but instead she shut it and simply nodded in agreement. He turned the knob to the door, pulling it open, and it was when he took a step outside he found that her hand was still folded within his.

Who would let go first? Him or her? She had yielded tonight; he would have to initiate the finalization of his exit.

He could have just let go and bid her good night again, but instead he tenderly pulled her closer and whispered ever so softly in her ear, "I'll see you in the morning."

She shivered involuntarily as she felt his breath ghost past her cheek; he lingered longer than was necessary, long enough to distinguish the scent that was uniquely her: peaches and sandalwood. After breathing her in one last time, he gradually drew away, releasing her hand from the warm cocoon of his own. She peered from the entrance of her hotel room to see him enter his three doors down. Their eyes met when he looked back, a grateful smile formed on her lips, a gentle one on his.

Neither had any idea of what would happen in the morning, when he would be falsely accused of being a traitor, that his purported betrayal would wound her more deeply than a gun ever could. But they knew none of that, all they believed in was that tonight was theirs and as far as they knew, so was tomorrow, all because...

...she had surrendered.

fin

I wrote this pretty quickly, but I think it's alright. Wasn't too sure if I should post it or not, but oh well. Please kindly review, all sorts of reviews are appreciated. Please don't flame, I don't think it was that bad. Thanks and hope you liked it.


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